


May I Take Your Order?

by bubblegumfanfic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Coffee Shops, High School, M/M, Slow Burn, Students, dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumfanfic/pseuds/bubblegumfanfic
Summary: Mark is a regular at a local café.Jackson is its new employee.What does time - and fate - have in store for these two strangers?





	1. Morning Coffee

The familiar bell tinkles softly above me as I'm enveloped by the welcoming smell of fresh coffee and early-morning baking. "Mark!" A voice greets me warmly.

I smile, already knowing the face I'll see when I peer into the kitchen: Park Jinyoung, the owner of the café, beams at me from the oven where he's currently baking something sweet-smelling. His square jaw is lightly dappled with stubble, and his aged - yet youthful - skin shows smile marks from years of spreading happiness to everyone who walks through that door. Including me. 

"Jinyoung-hyung, hi!" I sling my black holdall onto my regular seat in the corner booth, making my way to lean on the front counter like I've done many times before. Only this time it's polished top to toe, with cute decorations adding to the homely feel. "Why do I feel like you're trying to impress someone?"

"Impress? Oh, no. Just wanted a change of scenery, you know?" There's a few seconds' pause, in which I raise one eyebrow and shoot him a knowing look. "... And, maybe we do have a new waiter starting today..."

I grin affectionately at him - typical. He's always the one to want to make the best impression on new people, no matter how insignificant they may seem. Suddenly, the bell on the door rings once more, and I jump in surprise: usually, no-one thinks to visit a small family café at this time in the morning. 

Jinyoung simply smiles, looking down at his watch straight away. "7:00. Right on time."

The boy bows awkwardly, returning Jinyoung's smile - albeit nervously. He motions for the boy to step forward, and he does so, stepping hesitantly up to the counter. "Meet the newest addition to our family: Jackson."

I shake his hand gently, inclining my head respectfully. He mirrors me carefully. As I head back to my seat, I watch how Jackson copes with the nerves that accompany working the first day of a new job. 

He stays on the customers' side of the counter, while Jinyoung briefs him from behind it. After a while, I decide to check my phone. 

_'Where are you, Mark??' - Kim Hyuna_

_'You know, if you show up late again, Buin will murder you!" - Kim Hyuna_

I smirk. Buin - my dance teacher, who insists we address her using the Korean word for 'mistress' - will dislike me no matter what the situation is, and Hyuna knows that. She just misses me, is all; we're always warm up partners, so it's understandable.

_Sorry but I need my morning coffee! You do not want to see me this early without caffeine, trust me._

_I'll be there soon, okay? ^^_

I look up to see Jinyoung emerging from the kitchen, clapping his hands together in finality. "That's about it! Any questions?"  
"No, I don't think so... Thanks again for this job, Jinyoung-seonbaenim." The boy takes another stiff bow from in front of the counter, picking up a pen and pad of paper in the process. "You won't regret it."

"Ah, there's no need for that." Jinyoung waves his hand in distaste. "You can simply call me hyung."

Jackson's face visibly relaxes, and I see him allow his shoulders to drop slightly as he makes his way over to my table. "So, Mr..."

"I'm Mark." I laugh - he takes this as permission to smile faintly. "And you'll be seeing enough of me that you can speak to me as you would a friend."

Nodding, he smiles again - a real smile, bright and crisp, like the sun rising on a clear spring morning, and somehow it refreshes me. "When's your birthday then?"

"September 4th, '93."

"Ah. Then, sorry; Mark- _hyung._ " He readies his pen and paper. "What'll it be today?"

Just as I open my mouth to answer, Jinyoung's unmistakeable voice emanates from behind the counter. "There are croissants fresh out of the oven!"

"Well, I don't think I have a choice now." I joke; the tension held in Jackson's posture seems to ease gradually with every passing minute. "And can I get a caramel latte with that?"

"One croissant and caramel latte, coming right up." He nods, underlining the order with a sense of satisfaction, just as a couple walks in - although they may as well be one person, the way they're strangely entwined together. Weird time to be going on a date, but hey, who am I to judge?

Jackson heads off to tend to the couple, and I now notice a slight spring in his step, and how he holds his head just a little higher than he did before. As he approaches them, and handles their lovey-dovey requests with apparent expertise, I decide that I quite like this boy.


	2. Half a Croissant

"Hurry," Hyuna hisses at me from the other side of the studio door. "If you come in now, she's facing the wrong way to notice."

Despite the fact that I'm certain she has eyes in the back of her head, I attempt to open the door quietly and sneak past Buin into the class. As expected, it doesn't work. 

"Yi Eun, late again!" She grumbles, turning the music down to draw even more attention to me. My cheeks flush red at the embarrassment of being addressed by my stupid traditional name. "What have I told you about being late?" 

_My name's Mark_ , I reply in my head, but instead I just stay still as a statue. I keep my lips pressed tightly shut and head firmly angled towards the floor, in hopes my submission will make her relent. It doesn't. 

"We've almost finished the warm up now! It's pointless you dancing if you haven't warmed up properly." Her eyes flash with inspiration. "I know - you can make up for it by giving me 20 push ups!" 

_What is this, a military academy?_ Again, I deem it best to keep my thoughts to myself as I struggle through the push ups. 

"And now..." Oh God, is she not finished yet? "You can stretch out your splits - go on!" 

"But I don't do-" 

"I know what you're going to say - and no, you don't do ballet. But that's not related. You're a dancer: you'll need hip flexibility! Now go, try and do the splits." I swear there's something wrong with this woman. Reluctantly, I drop to my knees and try to stretch out my legs as far as possible. If only I could make Buin feel this kind of pain. 

"Not good enough!" She concludes, turning the music back up to distract everyone again. I slowly feel my face cooling back down again, and catch Hyuna's sympathetic gaze from the corner, where she practises some techniques with another girl. 

"I want you to come back next week on time, you hear me? Or I'll make you wish you didn't turn up at all." 

Taking a deep breath, she calms herself enough to walk to the front and start the lesson. But I notice that, throughout the whole hour, she never once utters a word in my direction, let alone praise how much effort I'm evidently putting in. 

"God, what a sadist." I mutter to Hyuna as the class files out of the studio, but she's already talking to someone about a boy or some crap like that. 

"Oh my god! No way!" She laughs as the other girl vividly animates a story to her; a moment later she turns to me, distracted. "Sorry, what?" 

"Never mind." I shake my head, smiling. "Hyuna, you have so many friends! How are you so popular, and good at dancing, and smart in school? Not to mention being so stunningly beautiful." I wink at her. 

"It's all in a day's work." She giggles, flicking her hair behind her shoulder - but then her expression becomes solemn. "No, but seriously. It takes so much effort, I'm starving already!" 

"Then have this." I retrieve the now cold croissant from the bag on my shoulder - I'd stowed it away in a napkin on the way to the studio. 

"For me? You shouldn't have!" She bats her eyelashes sarcastically, acting like a girlfriend from a drama. 

"I didn't." I grin at her, watching her face fall. "I was planning to eat it beforehand, but somehow the thought of Buin being furious ruined my appetite." 

"You gotta admit though," Hyuna tears the pastry in half, offering one part to me. I gladly take it, nodding in thanks. "She does bring out the best in you... As a dancer, I mean. Don't think I haven't heard you cursing when you can't do a move right!" 

"I'm a very passionate person, that's all!" I laugh, but as we draw closer to the school gates, Hyuna shivers slightly, drawing her flimsy jacket tighter around her. "Hey, get to class quickly, okay? I'll meet you for lunch as usual." 

She nods with a grin, and hurries off inside, while I find a bench on the school grounds to sit and read a book as the Friday morning mist finally lifts, just in time for me to get to lessons.


	3. Sweet Like Honey

The wind ruffles my hair and I shiver, shoving my hands further into my downy jacket, the fur inside soothing my icy hands. 

Blinking signs welcome me to the train station as I'm enveloped into the crowd, complacently following its swirling throngs to my station - 5B. 

After getting my phone out and putting some earphones in, I press play on the music and swing my schoolbag back onto my shoulder. I make my way down towards my usual spot at the end of the platform, I suddenly notice a face I recognise: Jackson, the new employee. 

He makes eye contact with me and bows his head slightly, waving his hand subtly as I walk closer to him. 

"Hi." Jackson smiles bashfully, putting his hands in his coat pocket to mirror him. 

I take the headphones out of my ears, grinning back. "Hi again." 

He nods down to the earphones in my hand. "What're you listening to?" 

Laughing, I can't quite meet his gaze as i reply. "A song. My friend recorded it as a joke, but it's actually really good." 

"Oh? Who's that?" 

"Kim Hyuna." I smile in spite of myself, holding out an earphone. "Want to listen?" 

He laughs politely. "Of course." Taking it gently, his smooth warm hands brush my icy ones. I press play. As the electronic music begins, he bops his head slightly to the beat. 

Once the lyrics start, he chuckles at their goofy, cliché nature. "You're the Tom to my Jerry?" Jackson exclaims, covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. "Hyuna sounds like a funny girl." 

"She is, believe me." Glancing up at the train station clock, I smile in reminiscence of her antics. 

"Do you, er..." My gaze shifts back down to Jackson. I'm not sure whether it's because of the cold or not, but I notice his cheeks have a certain pinkness to them. "You know... Do you like her?" 

"Oh God no!" I exclaim - perhaps a little too loudly, judging by hid startled expression. "We're just dance partners, is all." 

He raises his eyebrows. "Dance partners? You dance?" 

"Yeah, it's practically my life! Besides singing, but that's a different story." Just then, I notice the bag he's carrying on his shoulder. I nod to it. "You too?" 

"Yeah..." Jackson scratches the back of his neck. "After I got a job at that café, I'll have enough money to join a dance school. It's my first session today." 

"Oh - well good luck!" A distant rumbling signals the approaching train. 

"Thanks." He grins. "This is my train, anyway." Motioning behind him with his thumb, he makes to walk away, turning on his heel and shoving the black gym bag further onto his shoulder. 

"Mine too!" I smile at him, striding up to the edge of the platform to wait next to him. 

"Awesome." The train pulls up at last, doors stopping right in front of us. He flashes another grin at me - sweet like honey. "Well, shall we?" 

I giggle, pressing the button to open the doors. "We shall."


	4. Sour Candy

I swing into a seat as the train conveniently decides to resume its journey, sending Jackson off balance. Flailing slightly, he stumbles and his butt comes dangerously close to my face. 

"Hey, we only just met!" I joke, perhaps a bit too loudly - I notice a few of the older passengers craning their head to give me disdainful looks. Regardless, I shuffle up on the long plastic seat to make room for him. 

It takes until I pat the empty spot for him to get the message. He sits, the remnants of embarrassment showing in a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

Deciding to break the awkward silence, I take a breath to speak, noticing that his school blazer has the same intricate flower as mine. "So, how do you like Cheonggu so far?" 

He hesitates, frowning. Did I get it wrong? "You do go to my school now, right? I mean, you are wearing the uniform..." Looking back at Jackson, I laugh at his still bewildered expression. 

"Yeah, I uh... I was just wondering how you figured that out." He finally joins in with my laugher. "I'm stupid, sorry." 

"So?" I question, curious of his first impressions of the school I've been attending for years. 

"Oh, right." Chuckling again, he fidgets in his seat, trying to keep his gym bag close to his feet. "Well the lessons were just the same as what I'm used to - except everyone's so loud here!" 

"I guess it could be a bit overwhelming." I nod, realising I know almost nothing about this boy. It feels like I've known him for ages. "Where did you come from?" 

"Out in the countryside..." He turns away: is he trying to hide something? Maybe not, as he turns back almost straight away with a faint smile on his face. "You probably won't know the name, but it's near the East coast." 

"Oh." I reply simply, not wanting to pry. 

"Anyway, school. I found out about this drama club, which sounds cool. I kinda want to join it, but will that be social suicide?" 

I giggle, pausing to appreciate the sincerity yet strength in his voice. "Nope, you'll be fine. Actually, I was hoping to join myself, and now I have a friend to go with too!" 

"Friend!?" He exclaims in mock disgust. 

"Friend?" I question hopefully, grinning. 

"Hmmmm... I guess so." He maintains a cruel, serious expression for a moment before slipping into a beaming smile. Playful Jackson - I like it. 

There's a silence for a while - not awkward, but comfortable - lulled by the gentle hum and clattering of the train. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jackson sneak something from his bag into his mouth. 

"Hey," I say suddenly, making him jump and turn to face me. "What was that?" 

Grinning guiltily, he pulls a half-eaten packet of candy out of the gym bag. "These. They're so sour but they taste so good!" He offers the open bag to me, nodding to it. "Try one. You won't regret it." 

"Sure..." I frown, smiling in confusion at his enthusiasm. Warily, I pick a small, red, sugar-coated candy and pop it in my mouth before I have time to think twice. 

That was a mistake. It's so sour I almost want to spit it out, but we are on public transport, and I'd like to maintain what little of my dignity remains. I can feel my face going red to match the sweet, though, and it seems Jackson can, too. 

"Too strong?" He asks, the smirk carrying through to his voice. I nod slightly, trying to keep my face as human-looking as possible. 

"Well, you're in luck," Nudging me, he gathers everything back up and begins to stand. "Because this is our stop. Assuming you're getting off here?" 

Still incapacitated by the sourness, I can simply manage another nod before also rising from the seat, holding on to the chilling metal pole as the train stops. The doors open and I catch a glimpse of Jackson's head weaving its way through the crowd to his connecting train before I have to step onto the platform as well, swinging my tonne-weight rucksack onto my back in the process. I'll look forward to these train journeys in the future.


	5. Festive Spices

Wisps of mist linger, suspended in front of me, from a particularly chilly Seoul night. The nipping winter air tries to gnaw through my coat as I pull it tighter around me, approaching the fondly-painted pastel blue shop front. 

A friendly glow emanates from its large, immaculate windows, and I soon step into the threshold in the centre, pushing the door open with my hands red from cold. 

This time, it's Jackson I see first, not Jinyoung. His face lights up, eyes meeting mine as a smile stretches across his face. "Mark-hyung!" Adorable. 

He quickly rectifies himself though, clearing his throat and standing a little taller. "Um - what can I get you?" 

"I'm feeling festive all of a sudden, so a spiced hot chocolate, please." I smile slightly, which he reciprocates before heading off to make the drink. 

Almost immediately, Jinyoung emerges from the back room, taking a seat opposite where I've set my bag down. "Getting on with Jackson, are we?" He asks conspiratorially. I nod and join him, sliding into the cocoa-coloured leather seat. 

"Yeah," I reply softly, though the noise of the coffee maker is more than enough to disguise our conversation. "Actually, I found out yesterday that we get the same train home from school. 

"Great!" Jinyoung's well-worn smile returns, "Just wanted to get your opinion, that's all. I mean, you could almost work here yourself, the amount of time you spend here." 

"No way!" I laugh, and he looks taken aback before I get the chance to explain. "I'd be much too tempted to eat on the job." 

"Ahhh." Somehow his eyes glow with an unconditional happiness and a sort of warmth that I can't explain - I aspire to be as kind as him when I grow up. 

"Speaking of which-" He nods towards Jackson, who's carefully making his was over to us, carrying a single take-out cup. "Better get going." And with that he leaves the booth: just as Jackson arrives. 

"A hot chocolate with festive spices?" He places it down almost reverently on the pale wood table. 

"Yep," I laugh at the irony of calling out my order in an otherwise empty shop, and gently press some bank notes into his palm. "Keep the change." 

"Thank you. Enjoy your drink." Giving a significant bow, he then walks back to behind the counter; he promptly begins to clean the machines again. 

Watching in fascination, I sip my coffee as he polishes the chrome pipes, and wipes down the counter, humming all the while. After a while, I see he's also dancing subtly - but dancing well. 

"Hey, Jackson?" I call, cringing when my voice breaks slightly: it's too early in the morning for anything today. 

"Yeah?" He steps out from behind the counter, slinging the tea towel over his shoulder in a way that could only happen in a photoshoot. 

I stand up, bringing my drink with me. "I saw you dancing, and it's just - I go to this really good dance school - Buin's, you might know it - and you're allowed to recommend someone for lessons. 

His eyes widen at the name - I know I've got him now. "Would you like me to?" A silence hangs in the air and I can see him biting his lip. He fiddles with his hands nervously, holding them low in front of his maroon work apron. 

"No, it's okay." What? He can't have just denied my invitation to one of the best dance schools in Seoul. "I already dance, but thank you very much." 

"Oh?" I pause. He can't be for real. "Prove it." 

"How?" 

Pondering for a second, I let thoughts swirl around in my head before I finally fish out a solution. "Dance battle. Friday night?" He doesn't hesitate to smirk, nodding. "Game on."


	6. Lunch Together

"Mark!" Mr Choi's sharp voice snaps me out of my daze. "You can't afford to attend a hagwon - though Lord knows you need it - so I think it's in your best interests to pay attention, yes?" 

"Yes, sir." I bow my head slightly, trying to shake all distractions out of my head. 

"Now, if a this polynomial has a factor of (x - 2)," The gentle scratching of chalk on the board lulls me into a trance once again, "What will its other two be? You can use algebraic division, or the factor theorem..." 

I wonder how Jackson is? As I'm sat next to the window, I have a perfect view of the square at the side of the school. Its paved concrete floor is surrounded by clusters of cherry blossom trees, bare branches intertwining above like a celestial canopy. A fine dusting of snow remains where the branches are sheltered from the sun, a mere taste of the glorious blossoms that will grow in spring. 

But then the wind blows away the cloudy cover, and suddenly the sun shines right into my face; its piercing rays feel like they're stabbing my eyes, and I hiss under my breath, shielding my face from the sun. 

Just then, the boy next to me nudges me with his foot underneath the table. "Huh?" I whisper, trying not to get the teacher's attention. But when the boy nods towards the front of the classroom, I see that Mr Choi - and half of the class, for that matter - are staring me down impatiently. 

Crap. 

"Uhhh... Cosine?" I wince as I notice the faces surrounding me twist into malicious smiles. 

"Mr Tuan, we're not in trigonometry class." A wave of stifled laughter echoes around the intrusively bare walls of the classroom. "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm glad at least some of you know what you're doing." 

And with a last passive-aggressive glare, he moves on to the next mundane problem. 

Thirty torturous minutes later, the lunch bell releases me from the hell that is math, and I spill out into the corridor ahead of everyone in my class. Why am I like this? 

Still grimacing as I reminisce on the lesson's events, I absentmindedly bump into someone. "Sorry..." I mutter, trying to shake the cringe out of my head. 

But the person doesn't move on. 

Hands in pockets, they stand, waiting for god knows what. "Mark...?" A voice says tentatively. I frown. "You okay?" 

And as I look up, I realise it can only be one person. Jackson Wang. "Yep, fine." I give him a warm smile to prove my point. "You look a bit lost though... Are _you_ alright?" 

"Well, that's the thing..." He laughs, gaze lowering bashfully. "I've just realised that I have no one to eat lunch with." 

Is he for real? "You're so charismatic though! You must have made loads of friends by now!" 

"It's only been 3 hours!" He counters, starting to walk with me so as not to block the hallway. "And, also... I thought we should arrange this dance battle thing if we really want it to happen." 

Laughing, I take his arm gently. "Oh, in that case..." I begin to lead him to the square outside my math classroom. "I know a perfect place: a bench, right underneath some cherry blossom trees. And people hardly ever go there. You'll love it." 

It's a bit bizarre; while we're chatting endlessly (and exchange phone numbers, may I add) it seems like I've known Jackson forever. Strange how a few days can change things so much - for better, or worse.


	7. Peppermint Sweets

Throwing my bag haphazardly onto the floor, I slide into the chair and roll it lazily over to my desk. It's disappointingly empty, with little but papers, a clock, and a calendar. The calendar is embellished with dozens of my tiny scribbles in neon orange pen - and I realise there's one written on tomorrow. Crap. What have I forgotten now? 

Squinting my eyes and actually sitting up straight in my chair, I gradually make it out: "Dance... Ba... ttle-" Oh, yeah. Really shouldn't have forgotten that. 

Actually, I should probably choreograph some moves so I can properly annihilate this boy. Or should I do the homework that'll get me the good grades necessary for a stable future? 

After lengthy consideration, I open one of the dense books scattered across the corner of my desk, resting my head in my hands to keep myself from falling asleep. Why does biology have to be so boring? 

The blank-faced clock stares back at me indifferently, the minutes ticking over. No matter how much I try to will myself, I simply can't keep my mind focussed on 'active transport in the human body'. 

That dance battle... I really should prepare some stuff. Don't want to be shown up by a newbie. Pushing my chair away from the desk once more, I step over some basic routines for a while. 

I now have at least 8 different motifs ready - that's easily enough. Glad it's sorted. Now I can do my homework. 

Although... 

Maybe the dance could be spiced up a bit; flips perhaps? 

With the little space available in my room, I attempt to perform some tumbling - before kicking my shin into the cold, unforgiving metal frame of my bed and collapsing onto the floor. 

I lay there for a while, contemplating whether I should even turn up on Friday if I can't practice my signature move, when I remember that I actually have stuff to do. 

In a different well-rehearsed routine, I dust myself off, and sit - yet again - at the bleak wooden desk. Right. Homework. 

Or maybe I should text Jackson, just to make sure. 

_Hey :)_

_Hey!  
This is Mark right?_

_Yeah lol. Just wondering about times for the dance battle?_

_Almost forgot about that lmao  
Well what time is best for me to absolutely thrash you?_

_Shut up~  
I was actually thinking 6pm would be a great time for you to lose massively_

_Sounds good  
Get ready to be crushed :D_

_Ditto ^^_

_Hey, Mark-hyung?_

_Yep_

_I'm really bored~  
Work at this shop is so slow sometimes_

_At least you don't have a biology exam next week!_

_Oh_

_What?_

_I was about to invite you down to the café to keep me company..._

I grin, eagerly picking up my backpack again.

_On my way :)_

• ° • ° • ° • ° • ° •

"Thursday nights are so quiet." Jackson complains over the roaring of the hot water machine. "I'd even rather be studying biology!"

"Trust me, you wouldn't." I say, leaning further over the counter. "Plus, I'm here now. So it doesn't matter."

He gives a genuine smile, shaking the whipped cream before topping my drink with a generous helping. "True." And with that, he holds up the charcoal mug, full to the brim.

"Mint hot chocolate with chocolate shavings?" I waft its warm scent towards my nose, basking in its aroma. Festive.

"And crushed peppermint sweets!" He adds grandly, tilting the mug to show me. "We're not meant to put those on, but I figured you could do with a bit of moral support before you lose bitterly tomorrow."

"Right." I frown, wondering if I should insult him back or not. "Thank you?"

"Shhhh," He slides it along the counter towards me, smirking. "Don't tell anyone."

Did that boy just wink at me? It was just a split second, so I couldn't tell, but still... Jackson Wang, what a peculiar case.


	8. Shared Kimbap

Even though it's lunchtime, I'm still not fully awake. I slump, head resting on hand, over the lunch table. Probably shouldn't have stayed up until 3am practicing my dance moves. 

What? I really want to beat him. 

"Mark, you okay?" Hyuna nudges me gently with her shoulder, causing me to sit up straight and open my eyes properly. 

"Peachy." I say more aggressively than I meant to, and take another sip of my espresso. There's a pause, in which I decide that it's probably not her fault that I'm feeling so dreadful today. "Sorry, I'm just tired." 

She gives me a knowing nod, and turns back to her lunch of kimbap, across the table from which sits one of her multitude of friends: Jung Hoseok. "He's having a dance battle with the new kid tonight." Hyuna explains. 

At the mention of the word 'dance', Hoseok's eyes light up. "Really?" Having finished his lunch, he leans over the table towards me. "I can help if you want." 

I laugh for the first time today, and shrug my shoulders. "Sure." As Hoseok stands to leave, I copy him, only to be stopped by a firm hand on my wrist. 

"Not just yet." Comes Hyuna's voice, with a certain mothering tone. "You need to eat first - take this." And with that, a napkin full of kimbap slices is thrust into my hand; I'm finally free to follow Hoseok down to the school gym. 

• ° • ° • ° • ° • ° •

It's strange how Jackson Wang has just burst into my life and managed to take its entirety over in a matter of days. Hoseok - and one of his dance friends, Jungkook I think - has spent the whole lunch hour refining my technique, and teaching me a few more signature moves. 

Of course, it's all worth it. 

As lunch break draws to a close, Hoseok and Jungkook review my final practice - but when I've finished the routine, and have chance to breathe, I notice a figure in the gym doorway. Jackson. 

His face is nonchalant, and he looks to be just dawdling, but his head cranes curiously in my direction. 

"Jackson-hyung!" Calls Jungkook's voice from behind me; I see Jackson stop and wave in return. What? 

"Hey, Mark," he begins, nodding towards me. "Nice moves. It's just a pity I'll put them to shame this evening." In reply, I slowly draw my finger across my neck, trying to keep a solemn face: Jackson simply grins in return. 

"Hang on." Jungkook steps forward now, picking up his backpack as the bell rings for class. " _Jackson Wang?_ He's the one you're battling?" 

I nod, and feel an instinctual confused frown on my face. "How do you know him?" 

Jackson looks at Jungkook to answer, and so he does. "He joined my dance school on Wednesday - he has some seriously impressive moves. You are definitely in trouble." 

The two exchange a friendly smile before Jackson retorts: "I wouldn't say all that myself, but... You heard it from him first." A cheeky wink from him is met with shared laughter that echoes around the concrete gym walls. 

"Mark, I have no words." Jungkook shakes his head sympathetically, chuckling. "You made the wrong decision to challenge Jackson Wang to a dance battle." 

And with that, we scatter to our respective lessons before the second bell rings to mark us as late.


	9. Fresh Mochi

I text Jackson for what must be the hundredth time today. 

_Where are you??  
If you don't show up, I automatically win ;) _

Rocking back and forth on my feet to try and retain some circulation in them, I pull my scarf further up to my face. Maybe December was not the best time for an outdoors dance battle. 

Even though it's 6pm, the bare trees are already casting long shadows as the sun begins to set. Its amber rays fall into the graffiti'd concrete of the skate park, giving a false impression of warmth. 

A gust of wind rattles the branches, and I lift up my phone once more to call Jackson. Where is - 

Just then, I spot a figure approaching across the grass, accompanied by a fair number of people. That can't be him... Can it? 

Despite my hands being almost numb, I feel my phone vibrate. 

_I see you ^^_

_Hurry up, I'm cold~_

And at that, one of the shorter silhouettes bursts into a run across the dewy grass of the park, towards me. "Mark-hyung!" 

When Jackson arrives, he's bright red, struggling to breathe, and even sweaty. I never knew anyone who could make sweaty look so good. "Sorry I'm late," he pants, shoving his backpack onto a nearby skate ramp, "I was waiting for them. We need a great audience for a great battle!" 

I laugh, and give him a playful shove. "See, I told you you'd make friends!" And then I remember that I'm meant to be cool right now. I clear my throat, alter my posture, and speak with a gruffer voice this time. "I mean... Ha, only 'cause you paid them." 

"Oh, you wanna play that game huh?" He laughs, shoving me in the chest. "Let's go." 

"Hey, hey, hey!" Comes a female voice from behind Jackson. "No fighting until we can watch." She gives a bright smile, and places a tupperware box onto the concrete. "By the way, my grandpa just made mochi, so whoever wins can share it with me." 

Fresh mochi... Japanese food is my favourite; I love going to an international school. 

"Ah, that's why she was so late." I'd recognise Hoseok's voice a mile away. He draws nearer, along with Jungkook and two other boys I don't recognise. 

One of them replies, "To be fair, Momo's granddad makes the best mochi." 

As they approach, I give a polite nod, and ask cautiously, "Don't think I've met you guys before - what are your names?" And then, realising Jackson had probably forgotten this detail, I 

inform them; "I'm Mark, by the way." 

"Kim Jongin." One bows slightly, and then takes a seat on a rail nearby. 

"Park Jinyoung." The other says; I stifle a laugh at this. 

He gives me a quizzical look, and I have to explain myself. "Nothing, it's just... That's the name of my boss." And I have to admit, their square jaw and glossy dark hair do make them look quite similar - though this park Jinyoung is clean-shaven, and has bigger eyes and younger skin. 

"Right," Jackson places a speaker on the floor, and the audience form a semi-circle around us "Time to get this party started: you've been waiting long enough " 

"Sure." I give him a look that I hope is aggressive, and slip my leather jacket and red woollen scarf off, shoving them safely out of the way. That jacket cost ₩100,000! 

The speaker then starts pumping out a strong beat, with heavy bass and an electronic riff; definitely something I'd listen to. 

For the first few counts - standing opposite each other with stony expressions - we both warm up and get a feel for the beat. Simply a few basic steps, and neither of us makes a move for a while. 

Just as I feel confident enough to start my first motif, Jackson steps forward. Damn. 

His footwork is crisp and neat as he dances furiously - and annoyingly well - right in front of my face. He's just top-rocking though: relatively basic moves. I can easily beat that. 

Dropping effortlessly to the floor, I begin my first choreographed set. Having incorporated moves from Hoseok and Jungkook, my floorwork is pristine; I notice when I jump back up that Jackson is now looking a bit offput. 

Regardless, he seamlessly transitions to his next set of moves. I have to admit that they're good. Somehow he puts this swag into every little movement, adding so much power that I can't help but back away slightly. 

Following his explosive motif, I'm just about to start my second, most impressive routine - when the music changes. This time, the beat is slower but stronger, and the tune is noticeably lower-pitched. Perfect for tumbling. 

I mouth a quick 'sorry' at Hoseok as I completely skip the moves that he'd choreographed, and spring straight into my martial-arts inspired acrobatics routine - surely this will demolish any hope Jackson had of winning. 

A few flips - and a few terrified gasps from the audience - later, I land right in front of Jackson's face. I raise an eyebrow at him, taunting him. 

But then he motions for me to move back, and my expression quickly changes to one of confusion. Out of nowhere, he perfectly replicates my sequence of tricks: either this is coincidence, or that boy is very good. 

Even when I pull out my most impressive (and most risky, but never mind that) set of tricks, he retaliates with an equally skilful - and risky - routine. _Just who is this boy?_ , I wonder, as I'm stuck without choreography and both of us are locked in a battle of menacing looks. 

And then the second track stops, and there's silence. 

"Whoa." Momo exhales, mouth hanging slightly open. "How are you two so good? No way can I choose a winner!" 

Somewhat reluctantly, she stands, picks up the tupperware box, and opens it. A sweet smell emanates from inside, and I can't help but grin. 

"I only brought one pair of chopsticks, so you'll have to share." She says as she gently hands the container to Jackson. "You can have it all, I'm going back to my grandpa's house after this anyway." 

And with that, we pick up our respective belongings and stroll - now as a much closer group - across the dewy grass to the park's exit. 

Jackson offers me the mochi first; I pick one up with the chopsticks and dip it in soy sauce, smiling as it enters my mouth. The sweet and salty flavours complement each other perfectly. Delicious. It's as if they're meant to be together - like fate. 

Interrupting my daydream, Jackson snatches the chopsticks impatiently and helps himself to the sugary dessert. I watch a broad smile stretch across his face when he takes the first bite. It's like a sunset this time: warm and golden, and comforting. 

Taking another bite of the mochi, he leans closer to me and grins again. He then murmurs the words that will earn him a not-so-playful punch on the shoulder: "For the record, I won."


	10. Watermelon Boba

Hyuna's eyes widen as she sips on the bubble tea. She gulps it down, covering her mouth with a hand. "No way! Then what did you do?" 

"I pulled out the best tricks I have - but he just met them, then did one better." I shake my head. "It was crazy." 

"Jesus." She takes another drink, and looks furtively around the restaurant. Leaning across the table towards me, she whispers over the gentle hum of others' conversations. "Reckon it's aliens?" 

I laugh, probably a bit too loudly. "Noona, this isn't the time for one of your government conspiracies." 

"Just saying." She leans back in her seat, nodding towards my untouched cup of boba. "You gonna drink that?" 

I clutch it defensively. "Of course. I haven't even tried the watermelon one before." 

"Neither have I." Pouting her lips, she makes puppy-dog eyes at me. 

For God's sake. 

"Fine." I sigh, sliding it across the ivory table towards her. "Please don't drink it all." 

With a smug smile, she takes a dainty sip. Nodding slowly and grinning, she gives her review. "Tasty." She pulls down the sleeve of her beige sweater to wipe away remnants of her rosy-pink lipstick from the straw. 

"Don't! You'll stain it." I grab the flimsy plastic cup, and some of the juice spills out as I snatch it back. 

"Good job." She giggles, rolling her sleeve back up. 

I roll my eyes, pointedly picking up a bunch of napkins. "This," I say, wiping up the sticky pink mess, "is how you clean things." 

"Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning." 

"Not so!" I slam my hand onto the table - and ignore the concerned looks from nearby customers that ensue. I soften my voice. "That dance battle with Jackson has really put me on edge, I guess." 

Hyuna tilts her head, prompting me to elaborate. 

"I feel inadequate. I have no clue how to beat his skill. Between keeping my grades up, socialising, and sleep, I don't know how I'm meant to reach that level." Sighing, I rest my head in my hands. "Any ideas?" 

"Well, maybe you don't have to dance better than him." She chuckles, leaving a beat of silence before continuing: "You could always charm him into submission."


	11. Chapter 11

_Where are you??  
I haven't seen you since getting boba on Saturday, I'm getting withdrawal symptoms~_

_Chill your beans_  
_Wait actually don't you'll probably get hypothermia it's snowing so bad outside_  
_I couldn't even make it to school sorry_  
_The trains were cancelled :(_

__

__

_It's okay, I'll see you tomorrow then ^^_

Sighing, I shove my phone back into my jeans pocket. As if it's only Monday. 

Taking a seat on one of the deepest windowsills on the second floor, I look outside. The hard, varnished wood is uncomfy to sit on, but the view is well worth it. 

Flurries of snowflakes drift lazily downwards, as the wind guides them into graceful spirals. Every now and then, one would meander into the window pane, slowly melting with the warmth of the glass. And yet thousands of its companions glide on through the air, only to land on the concrete below. Sitting up slightly, I peer down at the floor. By now, it's completely covered by a cold white blanket, but no-one has stepped foot in the middle courtyard yet. The pristine delicateness of the snow has yet to be sullied by footprints. 

"Beautiful." I jump at the deep voice in my right ear - and turn to see Jackson. He grins at my reaction, and eases himself onto the window-seat, next to me, wood creaking hesitantly as it shifts under his weight. 

Nodding, I shuffle to the side, allowing him enough room to sit. Legs dangling off the ledge, into the hallway, we sit facing each other. 

"Like me." He continues, his smile widening as he frames his chin between two open hands. I nod again, mirroring his grin. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask, swinging my legs so that my heels occasionally tap the ivory walls. 

"Trains aren't running." Jackson reaches his arms behind him, leaning back on them. He stops for a moment, frowns, then laughs. "You should know that - we get the same train." 

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking." Chuckling gently, I cast another vague glance out of the window. "I was waiting for Hyuna." 

He nods. "Ah." 

Our conversation lulls, and we both look away from each other. I keep swinging my feet; the rubber of my pale yellow converse hits the wall rhythmically. Reaching into my back pocket, I find half a packet of chewing gum - I pop the cherry gum into my mouth, eyes wandering the corridor as I chew it. 

"Hey!" His voice echoes around the barren corridor, off the wall of royal blue lockers opposite us. Startled, I turn back to him. "While we're here, you should give me a tour of the school." 

"Really?" I give him a quizzical look. "No pretty girls have begged you to let them show you around?" 

"No way. Pretty girls? Liking me?" Waving his hands in refusal, he shakes his head. "I'd much prefer you to tell me everything anyway." 

Eyes crinkling affectionately, I nod. "Sure." 

I push myself off the windowsill, shoes landing with a dull thud. Jackson does the same, and follows me down the hall, his black Puma trainers squeaking on the grey linoleum. 

• ° • ° • ° • ° • ° •

We wander aimlessly, in the vague direction of the sports hall - I'm running out of places to show him, and might have to tell him that soon. 

Suddenly, Jackson's phone lights up and vibrates. A glance at the screen, and he grins at me. "The trains are back on!" 

"What? How do you know that?" 

His smile becomes cheekier, and he taps his temple with a single finger. "I got the app." 

I can't help but chuckle. "Right. Trust you." Nodding proudly, he continues walking. "Can we go to my locker first? I forgot to bring home my geography homework." 

He nods again, and murmurs agreement, as we carry on down the hallway. I can't help but notice the spring in his step that this boy has - and it's somehow contagious. 

So much so that I almost forget where we're going, until we reach a dead-end in the corridor, and Jackson looks at me expectantly. "Oh, left here." 

He diligently trots down the small hallway to our left, where a few rows of red lockers sit opposite a music practice room. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he presses his palms against the window, peering in. "Whoa." He breathes. 

"Mm hmm." I respond. Who wouldn't be impressed by a room of that size, with an immaculate varnished wooden floor, and a sleek ebony grand piano at its centre? 

Half turned around to face him, I enter my locker's code, and go to open it. It doesn't budge. Must have been too pre-occupied with Jackson's childish wonder. 

"You okay?" He turns at the abrasive sound of metal rattling against metal. 

"Yeah." I chuckle. "It's just been a long day, that's all." Second time lucky: I manage to enter the correct numbers this time, and the door swings freely open on its hinges. 

A scrap of paper falls out, fluttering to the floor. Just one glance at it makes me roll my eyes, and I sigh. Pastel paper, pink ink, bubbly calligraphy - it could only be one thing. Bending to pick up the note, I screw it up and making to throw it in a nearby bin - but Jackson grabs my arm, stopping me. 

"What's that?" He asks, eyes wide. I sigh again, slowly unfurling my fist to let him read the paper. 

_Maku-oppa,_

_I love you to the moon and back, and your eyes shine like the stars that surround it. Every time you smile, it makes my day; I wish I could make yours._

_Sohyun xoxo_

Raising an eyebrow, he looks back. "Wow, I'm guessing you're a real ladies man around here." There's an all-too-long pause, and he frowns, giving me a doubtful look when I don't reply. "What?" 

I hesitate. Do I tell him the truth? Most people around here have no clue about my sexuality - they'd all hate me. Only my closest friends are in on the secret, and I guess they were all fine with it. Plus, Jackson somehow seems way less superficial than everyone else here. 

"I, um -" My voice cracks with nerves; I cough, and continue hesitantly. "I don't exactly swing that way." Laughing nervously, I rub the back of my neck and look down. 

"No way!" Jackson's eyes are bright, and they fill me with hope - is he gay too? 

Apparently he can read minds, because he answers this almost immediately. "Sorry, it's just that I'm questioning too." His smile radiates to me, contagious. "Good to know I have someone to talk to, right?" 

Shutting my locker, and chucking the crumpled note in the next bin we pass, I nod. "Right."


	12. Almond Mocha

The bell chimes, as it always does, when I push open the café's powder-blue door. I see Jackson jump to attention, but he quickly relaxes again once he sees who it is. 

"Hey!" His eyes crease up into a smile as he strolls behind the counter. "What can I do for you?" 

I inspect the menu behind him, as if I haven't already tried every drink here - twice. "Almond mocha, please." 

"Sure thing." And with that he turns to the various intimidating machinery, looking like he's been a barista all his life. 

My eyes wander lazily around the room while I wait. Sleek black decor, smooth mahogany tables, condensation fogging up the ice-cold window. And then I notice some papers stapled together, half-hidden behind the cash register. 

"Jackson," I begin, walking over and carefully picking the paper up. "What is this?" 

Eyes wide, he looks up. He immediately hurries over to me, snatching it out of my hand. Rolling it up, and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans, he replies furtively, "Nothing." He pulls his mustard-yellow sweater down to cover it. 

"Look, I know a script when I see one." I go to retrieve it - but stop when my hands get dangerously close to his butt. "I never knew you acted." 

Jackson glances down at my outstretched arm and laughs a little. "I don't. I'm just trying to become a triple threat. Key word, _trying._ " 

"Go for it. But isn't 7am on a Wednesday a bit early to be reading Shakespeare?" 

"Look, I'm dedicated to the craft." Placing his hands on his hips, he stands proudly. "I rehearse every Friday lunchtime as well." 

"Oh, so you joined that drama club then?" 

He nods firmly in reply, lips stretched in a broad grin. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

Still smiling, he shakes his head. "Please do. Everyone else is so talented at acting, I need someone to make me look good." 

"Hey!" I give him a mock slap on his shoulder. "Just you wait. I'll be the next Leonardo DiCaprio." 

"Sure." He laughs, turning back to the coffee machines. Sprinkling some final cocoa powder on top, he slides a bright white coffee cup towards me. "Your almond mocha." 

Jackson gives a deep theatrical bow, and I cover my mouth as I can't help but laugh. "Thanks." I take the cup, and its gentle warmth soothes my hands - still rigid from the chill wind outside.


	13. Black Bean Noodles

"Right!" Buin claps her hands together, business-like. My death knoll. "Today we're practicing for talent auditions to idol companies. They're coming up soon, so you guys need to be good." 

An excited murmur travels round the studio - people nod at each other approvingly, and friendship groups hold hands tightly. Hyuna and I lean against the back wall, arms crossed. I shoot her a knowing look: _you're gonna make it._ She shakes her head, and looks back to Buin, who stands in front of the mirror. 

"Don't think I'm going to be soft on you guys, because what little confidence you have will be ripped apart by those auditioners." 

Hyuna taps the back of her hand on my shoulder, and I look at her. She nods towards the mirror, and whispers, "Look, Buin's thong is showing." Slapping my hand over my mouth, I stifle a guffaw. 

Buin's head whips round towards me. "Yes, it's about time you got taken down a peg or two." Scanning the rest of the class, stony-faced, she continues. "You need to be sleek, co-ordinated, and most of all, professional." 

One of the younger students flings his hand up in the air to ask a question. Buin motions for him to do so. "What entertainment companies will be there?" He asks breathlessly. I swear he's practically drooling at Buin's feet, he's such a suck-up. 

"If I told you, that would ruin the surprise." She answers bluntly, turning to the speaker system in the corner. "Now let's get warmed up." 

I roll my eyes, and force myself off the wall. Hyuna knits her eyebrows into a scowl, and reaches out her hands to me - I grab them and pull her onto the floor, too. "You're too cute, Hyuna. Just perform aegyo for the companies, and they'll debut you straight away." 

Looking down at the floor, she laughs. "Don't jinx it. I really want this." 

And with that, Buin puts the warm-up track on, and it blasts throughout the studio, rendering any conversation impossible. 

An hour later, tomato-red, exhausted, and sweating profusely, I collapse to the floor. Buin opens the door, signalling the end of the lesson. "I expect to see you all on Friday for the auditions. Rest well!" 

A breeze from outside ruffles my fringe as I wipe my forehead. Hyuna sits beside me, legs outstretched, head fallen back to face the ceiling. She takes a quick swig of water, still panting for breath. 

"You two." Buin points at us, and we exchange a terrified glance as she marches over to us. "Attending on Friday, yes?" 

After consulting each other with another sideways glance, we nod our heads gingerly. 

"Good." She lowers her voice, crouching down to our level. "I expect you to impress them. You're my best dancers; I want you to get a contract. Capiche?" 

We nod again, vigorously this time. I restrain myself from saluting. She smiles. 

"Good." 

As Buin retreats, I shoot Hyuna a confused expression, and she returns it with a shrug. "I guess she finally realised how much potential you have." She says, levering herself up and dusting off her leggings. 

"The only reason she'd be that happy is if a kid died." I mutter, taking her outstretched arm to pull me up. 

Hyuna laughs, and slings her dance bag over her shoulder. "Look, let's be positive here: Buin paid us a compliment!" Her upbeat stride is accompanied by me stumbling to keep up with her, after hauling my gym bag off the floor. "Black bean noodles to celebrate?" 

I manage a grin - Hyuna knows that's my favourite meal. With a new spring in my step, I heave open the glass door of the studio. The night is dark outside, and the wind is even stronger as I hold it open for her. "Do you even have to ask?"


	14. Raspberry Lipgloss

Friday lunchtime rolls around. I'm counting down the seconds until the clock hits 12:00 and the lunch bell rings. Mrs Kwon is a forgiving Korean teacher, so she lets us leave as soon as its tone ricochets around the hallways. 

Stuffing my books into my bag, I shove it onto my shoulder, desperate to be the first to leave. Today's the first drama practice, and I need to get the best parts. 

Handfuls of people spill out of classrooms into the corridor, but it stays quiet enough that I can half-run to the other end of the school - I tumble into the drama room, panting. 

Around its edges hang black felt curtains, and the rubber soles of my shoes fall heavy on the wooden floor. Spotlights throw beams of bright light into the middle of the room, and cast stark shadows on the faces of a crowd of people underneath - who have now all turned to stare at me. 

After a split-second, though, they turn back to their individual conversations, a hum of conversation filling the room. Not knowing anyone there, I shuffle over to a corner of the room: a box full of props sits tipped on its side, and swathes of fabric overflow from what looks like a costume cupboard. A person, probably just as socially awkward as me, is leaning in front of it. 

As I get closer, I can finally make out the face - it's none other than Jackson Wang. "Thank god you're here!" My voice startles him, and his arms uncross from his chest as he looks around frantically. 

Then he laughs, giving me a playful whack on the chest. "Tell me about it!" His eyes crinkle up, even more into a smile, as he rubs the back of his neck. "I thought you weren't going to show up."

Suddenly, a middle-twenties man slams open the door, standing grandly under the spotlight. "Welcome to theatre." Smiling mischievously, he begins to dash around eccentrically, taking two people by the shoulders and pushing them together. 

"These are your partners!" He cries over the concerned murmurs that are slowly getting louder - and more panicked. "Choose a script when you're ready."

"What the hell is he doing?" Jackson whispers to me, and I shoot him a confused look that mirrors his own. 

The man pops up behind us, face in between ours. "Chemistry!" He yells - then lowers his voice to a whisper, alternating eye contact between me and Jackson. "I can feel it." 

And with that, he was gone again, forcing another pair of unwilling strangers towards each other. 

There is a second in which we exchange a sceptical look. Though I don't exactly trust this man, I can't do much but follow his instructions - I nod towards the front of the studio. "Guess we should choose a script then?"

Laid out neatly on the teacher's desk are stacks of paper, arranged in pairs. They're face down; I figure we're not supposed to know what they are before we choose. Jackson's eyes light up at the choice of scripts. His hands dance over the top of them, skimming each as they pass. Finally, he decides on one in the corner; probably the thinnest of them all.

"You read it first." He instructs, keeping the scripts face down as he hands them to me proudly.

I skim the text, iconic phrases turning cogs in my memory. Strangely, I've read this before, in foreign literature class. "Romeo and Juliet." The balcony scene. 

"Well, obviously I'll be Romeo." Jackson flexes his arms, tensing his jaw to square it. "Look at these guns."

"Hey, I can be manly too!" I pout, trying to squint masculinely and broaden my shoulders. 

"No, look at those girly lips!" Laughing, he pokes them gently. I bite my bottom lip, self-conscious of the raspberry lipgloss I'm wearing. "You're Juliet."

I sigh, and fold the script under my arm as I pick up my bag to haul it over to an empty corner. "Fine. I'm Juliet." Clearing my throat, I stand up straight and hold the wad of paper in front of me. "Now, let's get started."


	15. Spilled Espresso

The buzz of friday afternoon excitement swirls around me as students spill out of their classrooms. Somewhere in the crowd, I spot the white flash of Jackson's dance bag, slung over one shoulder as usual.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I jog over to him. "Ready for tonight?" I slow to a walk beside him.

"Absolutely not." He laughs - and holds a hand out. "I'm shaking already!"

"I know," I chuckle, "You should feel my heartbeat - I'm surprised I'm not dead yet."

To my surprise, he does: his hand reaches out to settle firmly in the centre of my ribs, stopping me as he does so.

"Damn." He pulls his hand away, nodding in approval. I realise I've been holding my breath, so let out a small sigh as I tilt my head inquisitively. "Juliet's got pecs."

I can't help but laugh, turning away from him for a split-second to hide the rose blush on my cheeks before starting to walk again. "What do you expect from a toned dancer like me?"

"Hey! That's not fair." He slows down, walking a few places behind me now. "I dance and my thighs aren't toned, they're _huge_. Give me yours!" He lunges forwards, grabbing at the back of my coat - but I sprint away before he gets hold of anything.

We weave in and out of commuters on the street, me constantly looking back over my shoulder only to see his malicious grin getting closer and closer.

Before I know it, I'm at the train station, and have to slow down when I step on the patented shoe of a rich-looking businessman. He stops sharply, holding a polystyrene cup out from his torso as a wave of coffee overflows from the plastic lid, cascading onto the concrete.

"Aha! Gotcha!" Jackson bearhugs me from behind, scrunching the fabric of my T-shirt in his fists. I laugh, despite the bitter scowl creasing the man's forehead as he combs a hand through his hair and strides off.

"Yeah, only 'cause I let you." I scoff, pulling his arms over my head to shove them off my shoulders.

He jogs a little to meet my pace, not replying but just shooting me a mischievous smirk and sideways look. We walk, steps synchronised, to the platform right as the rumble of the train approaches along the tracks.

Breeze blowing his dark hair off his forehead, Jackson stares off into the distance as the carriage pulls up. Only when the doors hiss open is he jerked back into the moment.

"You okay there?" I chuckle as I swing through the doorway, collapsing onto our usual seat - it feels good to finally be off my feet.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he gives a grin. "I was trying to remember my lines! I was sneaking glances under the desk all the way through economics, but nothing would go into my head."

"Oh, right." I yank the script out of the top of my bag, where I shoved it before running inexcusably late into my psychology class, smoothing out the creases on my knee. "Wanna practice?"

"Sure, but I'm gonna need the script."

I hold it up in front of the pair of us, and clear my throat to begin-

"What are you doing?" Jackson whispers, placing a hand on my forearm to guide the script back to my lap. He laughs, shaking his head. "This is a public train, Mark. People will think we're so _weird_."

"You wanted to practice!" I protest, folding my arms as the train pulls away from the station. The script promptly flutters to the floor.

Tutting and rolling his eyes, Jackson picks it up before it's trodden on by a hurrying commuter. He presses it firmly back into my hand. "Quietly, okay?"

I smile. Turning an imaginary lock on my lips, I nod, and have my second look through the lines.

**Author's Note:**

> ~ monthly updates ~


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